


Living in America: Deleted Scenes

by minkhollow



Series: Living in America [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: au_bigbang, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkhollow/pseuds/minkhollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Outtakes from "Living in America" that didn't, for various reasons, make the final cut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in America: Deleted Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> Even after I finished the main story, I couldn't leave the universe be; I wanted to explore some of the ramifications of Claudia getting to the Warehouse that much sooner (and one of the earlier Artifact side-adventures I mentioned).  
> I am still not Syfy.

**Warehouse 13, South Dakota  
1959**

“Phyllis? Phyllis!”

In the time it’s taken Rebecca to replace both the neutralizer hose and the sword that caused all this trouble in the first place, Betty’s started shaking Phyllis’ shoulder. She looks up as Rebecca comes back, eyes full of worry.

“She’s not responding,” she says. “I thought these things stopped after you...”

Rebecca frowns. “Usually, but sometimes it takes a bit to recover. If she’s out much longer, we’re going to have to call Dr. Watson in.”

“I might do that anyway. I’ve never seen her like this before.”

“I... think it’s safe to say none of us have.” Rebecca digs the Farnsworth out of her pocket and hands it to Betty. “Could you call the boys and tell them it’s safe to come out of the office again? I’m going to find something to wipe off her hands before she gets neutralizer in her face.”

“Good idea.” Betty flips the Farnsworth open; as Rebecca heads back to the neutralizer station for a rag, she hears Betty say, “Gus? We’re - not all right, but it’s under control.”

She grabs a rag, then goes back to Phyllis and starts wiping the neutralizer off her hands; there’s not much she can do for Phyllis’ blouse, under the circumstances, but at least her cardigan was black today. She’s nearly done when Phyllis finally stirs.

“...Rebecca? Why do I have such a terrible headache?”

“I don’t know if you concussed yourself or not,” Rebecca says, “but... you had a run-in with something. How much do you remember?”

“I was working on the Lovelace,” Phyllis says, “and there was a rat, and it startled me - as rats do - so I backed away. And, well, now I’m here.”

“I think you got hold of something when you were avoiding the rat. A sword, to be exact.”

“Oh dear. Is everyone all right? Whose sword?”

“I’m not sure whose, exactly,” Rebecca says. “Gus said he’d look into it, shortly after - well, you came charging into Charlie’s office shouting in some variation of Chinese or Vietnamese and swinging the sword at any man who held still long enough. So we barricaded everyone in there and cornered you by a neutralizer pump.”

Phyllis’ eyes go wide. “Poor Betty, she must be worried sick--”

“She is, and she was, but she was still brilliant. Not to mention Josephine - she and Kate came up with the plan to get you out of the office, actually.”

“So I gave all the desk girls an adventure. The day wasn’t a total loss, then.” Phyllis smiles a little. “Do you know what happened to my papers?”

Rebecca shakes her head. “I don’t, sorry. As far as I know, they’re still with the Lovelace. We can--”

She’s interrupted by Betty all but flying over and hugging Phyllis. “Oh, thank goodness you’re all right, I was so worried - here’s your Farnsworth, Rebecca, thank you - do you feel well? Should we call Dr. Watson?”

Phyllis laughs. “You’re getting neutralizer on your dress, dear, calm down. I’ll be all right.”

Rebecca smiles and leaves the girls to it. All things considered, that could have gone much worse; she’s just glad they resolved the matter without having to call Mrs. Frederic.

 **Cambridge, Massachusetts  
2007**

So this is basically the best graduation party a girl could ask for.

Claudia’s frankly still a little amazed she actually made it this far; even at MIT, there are people who are more worried about where their next beer is coming from than their supposed real purpose for being there. But for the worst of it, Joshua was also around, working on his doctorate (before he got a job in freaking Switzerland, but that’s where she thanks whoever it was that invented the Internet - even without the Warehouse, she wouldn’t believe it was Al Gore for a second).

And, well, you need a college degree to get into the Secret Service. Maybe it’s a long shot to hope she can get into the Warehouse business, maybe Rebecca’s got her reservations for very good reasons, but Claudia can’t help but hope.

Anyway, she made it through, and while the celebration’s just a nice dinner out with Rebecca, Jack and Joshua after the ceremony - well, family things are her kind of thing, when she has the family to _have_ family things.

After she orders dessert, she gets up and goes to the bathroom; she doesn’t hear the door open again while she’s in the stall, but when she comes out to wash her hands, the scary Warehouse lady is standing by the sink.

“Oh! Hi.” Claudia frowns, but the lady’s name comes back to her before it gets awkward (well, more awkward). “Mrs. Frederic, right?”

“Indeed.” Mrs. F steps aside enough that Claudia can squeeze in to wash her hands, then says, “I have some good news for you, Miss Donovan.”

Claudia pauses with her hand full of soap. “You - I’m in?”

“That you are.” Mrs. F smiles - maybe, for about a second. “I persuaded the Regents that we have use for your particular skill set. Among other things, Arthur has been increasingly testy with the computer system of late, and I’d rather he didn’t damage it beyond repair.”

“You and me both. I... how soon you want me out in Nowheresville?”

“As soon as possible, once your brother has returned to Geneva. Pack light, and congratulations.”

Claudia finally remembers she needs to finish washing her hands. “Hey, thanks. And I know it’s kind of asking a lot to take me on and all--” But when she turns around to get paper towels, Mrs. F is gone.

And even wondering how she did that - seriously, shouldn’t Claudia have noticed her reflection in the mirror suddenly disappearing? - and knowing the ‘try not to get yourself killed’ is still heavily implied, she can’t stop grinning. This is now officially the best day ever.

 **Warehouse 13, South Dakota  
2009**

“I - it’s Italian I think, but I can’t get it all translated.” It’s a lie and Artie knows it, but he’s got a pair of fledglings on his hands - and for all Pete enjoyed his cookies, Artie doubts he’s fully on board yet.

Myka frowns. “Then how are we supposed to find out what it says?”

“Well, you’re at a university, aren’t you?” Artie snaps the Farnsworth shut and sighs. This will be so much easier when they’re finally prepared to take his word for it, but until then--

“Who was that, the noobs?”

“Gah!” Artie manages not to fall out of his chair - barely - and glares at Claudia. “I told you not to do that! How long have you been there, anyway?”

“Long enough to know I put the medieval and ancient languages in the translator database for a reason, dude. It’s called ‘so we can look stuff like this up.’ Why do you never use it?”

“Partly because Pete and Myka are going to have to learn how to use their resources in the field on the very rare occasions I can’t pull something like that up, and partly because they’re going to ask someone else anyway.” He pauses, and tries not to make it awkward, but it is anyway. “How... how was the funeral?”

Claudia treats him to a half-hearted glare of her own. “It was a funeral. What, do you think Jack sat up in the casket halfway through and said ‘lolz, I was only kidding’? Rebecca would’ve killed him.”

“Hey - that’s not what I meant, Claudia.” He still feels like he’s making a complete mess of this mentor thing, and this isn’t his best performance by any stretch of the imagination. But he keeps trying anyway, and she hasn’t stormed out in a huff, so it’s already better than some other conversations they’ve had. “I just... wanted to make sure it wasn’t any more painful than it had to be.”

“Yeah, well.” Claudia swallows, not meeting his eyes. “Rebecca’s trying not to be a mess, even though she’d be totally justified, and it turns out I’m no better at this stuff than I was when I was seven, but I guess that’s the best you can hope for from any funeral.”

Artie nods, and doesn’t point out how lucky they were to have had a body to bury - Claudia already knows that part. “I won’t tell you it gets easier.”

“Good. I wouldn’t believe you. Oh, and I did finally meet the infamous Phyllis. What’s all this about a mainframe designed by Ada Lovelace hanging around here?”

“Ohhhh, no you don’t. My setup does everything that was used for and then some, and you get into enough trouble trying to get through inventory. Do I need to remind you what happened when you decided you were changing a light bulb without waiting for me?”

“No, and you don’t need to remind me about what happened when I tried to beef up the radio reception, either.” Claudia shudders. “I can’t believe some of that stuff’s still sending out signals.”

“Whether it’s still sending out signals or that satellite’s still picking them up, I could have told you the Judica-Cordiglia equipment was a bad idea, if you would have asked.”

“Or you could have put a little more about the side effects of this stuff on your shiny new tags, dude. I keep telling you that wouldn’t hurt a thing. So whatcha got the noobs working on? Any research-fu you need to set me loose on?”

Artie rolls his eyes. “We don’t have enough information yet, but we do need to give Houdini’s wallet a full neutralizer dunk.”

 **Warehouse 13, South Dakota  
2009**

They’re not going anywhere any time soon, and Pete’s stuff hasn’t turned up at the post office yet, so he figures he might as well explore the Warehouse. It’s pretty clear he’s not going to fully get to know his new assignment any time soon, but hey, it can’t hurt to try, right?

He turns down an aisle at random, and raises an eyebrow. “Thaaaat’s a lot of hats.”

“You bet it is, dude.”

Pete blinks, looks further down the aisle, and wonders how he missed the redhead dressed like a thrift store fell on her. “Wait, what - what are you doing here?”

“Putting up new tags,” the redhead says. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“No, I mean...” Pete trails off and looks at her again. “Wait. You’re Claudia?”

“The one and only. Don’t tell me you were expecting someone Artie’s age.” She does something with the console in her hand, then attaches it to the shelf in front of her.

“Well, not exactly. Myka probably was, but I was - well, I wasn’t thinking you’d be a kid.”

“Hey, this kid has two years of Warehouse XP that you don’t pick that up!”

Claudia changing sentences halfway through distracts Pete before he can finish reaching for the battered floppy hat that caught his attention. “Why not? It’s just a - actually, how does it even qualify as a hat?”

“Apparently they had different standards in the ‘30s.” Claudia jogs down the aisle and checks the yellowing tag in front of the hat. “That one? Bonnie Parker’s. Hats for career girls, as long as the career you have in mind is robbery and mayhem.”

“You’re not saying all of that could happen just from picking the thing up.” It’s not as much of a not-a-question as Pete tries to make it sound like.

“You know many people who pick up a hat without trying it on? Besides, if you really want to try out one of these, probably the safest one we’ve got is Arlo Guthrie’s. The stories you could tell - assuming the draft board doesn’t reinstitute itself just to call you up.”

“I’m not on active duty anymore, but... good point.” Pete looks down the aisle again; there are hats stretching past where Claudia was working when he got here. “There are seriously this many Artifacts that are people’s hats?”

“I know, right? Maybe they just soak up more Artifacty goodness from being on someone’s head so long. Or badness, depending.” Claudia shrugs, and starts back down the aisle. “Rebecca said once that when she first heard about the place, she wasn’t sure if it was the world’s weirdest hat shop or what.”

“Well, depending on how many hats she heard about, I can - wait. Rebecca as in the one in the video?”

“Rebecca as in one of my foster parents. What video?”

“Something Myka found yesterday,” Pete says. “We made a couple bowls of popcorn, but then it was just this Native American guy saying ‘read Rebecca and Jack’s case reports, try to do what they did, be careful and good luck.’” He’s summarising, but not by much; it was a way shorter film than they were expecting, especially after the dead-Italian-cougar business. “At least the popcorn didn’t go to waste.”

Claudia looks at him for a long moment, then laughs. “Oh my god I’m going to have to tell her that actually happened did you tell Artie about it?” she says, all in one breath, before laughing again.

“Um. No? Were we supposed to? What’s so funny?”

“Long story short, my two years of Warehouse XP would be six if Artie and Mrs. F had been willing to take me right out of high school,” Claudia says, still grinning. “First time I was here, Artie said something about how if there were a training video, the whole thing would be - well. What you guys saw. At least, I’m guessing that was Gus. Never met him.”

Pete shrugs. “Well, with the high employee turnover rate the place seems to have...”

“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly the easiest work in the universe, but it’s a lot of fun once you get used to it.”

“It’s definitely interesting.” Pete eyes the hat he nearly picked up, then says, “So, Miss Two Years of Warehouse XP, there anything I need to know about this job that Artie didn’t mention?”

Claudia rolls her eyes. “All the things, probably. You want the thorough tour while you’re down here?”

“Sure.”

 **Warehouse 13, South Dakota  
2010**

“Claudia?”

Claudia doesn’t answer, but Leena can’t say she’s entirely surprised; her headphones are turned up so loud that Leena can just about make out the song without cheating. So she reaches over and taps Claudia on the shoulder.

Claudia whirls around, obviously startled; she relaxes when she sees it’s only Leena, and pulls her headphones down to hang around her neck. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“Artie wanted us to finish installing the new motion sensors.”

“Oh, right. Let me - let me finish this shelf while I’m over here?”

“Sure.”

Leena watches Claudia work for a few uncomfortable minutes. She’s still on edge, that much is clear, but after everything MacPherson put them all through, they’re all walking on eggshells. The devil of it is, thanks to the Pearl, Leena only half-remembers all the shit he made her do - and she can’t forget the part that hurts the most, now that she knows.

After a while, she says, “You’re not... you’re not still angry at me, are you?”

Claudia finally turns off her MP3 player, and sighs. “At you? No. Not since Mrs. F said there was an Artifact involved. MacAsshole could’ve done that to any of us and it would’ve sucked just as much. I’m mostly just pissed at myself for not making the Professor Reynolds connection sooner.”

“There was no way for you to know. It’s not like Artie keeps any of his photos of MacPherson anywhere that you would have seen them.”

“He still has ‘em? It’d be cute if it wasn’t...” She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t have to; Leena imagines all of them can fill in the blanks, by now.

“Anyway,” Claudia says, bending down to investigate the lowest shelves, “I’m not gonna say I wasn’t pissed at you at all. Because I was, before Mrs. F called in and said he Artifact-whammied you. It was one thing when I thought you were willingly along for the ride, but he more sort of dragged you along.”

Leena smiles a little, despite herself. “That he did.” She has her suspicions as to why - not only does she have the lion’s share of Artie’s trust, but she doesn’t go out in the field - but that’s a matter she’d rather not think about if she doesn’t have to.

“He was a... big fat jerk who sucked,” Claudia says, showing remarkable restraint. “And I’m almost sorry I didn’t get a chance to kick his ass before Wells did her thing.”

“Almost, but not quite. You don’t think Myka’s taught you enough to be effective in that situation, and you’re probably right.”

Claudia rolls her eyes, but doesn’t add anything else until she stands up. “Hokay, so. Let’s do this like Leeroy Jenkins.”

**Author's Note:**

> More on the Judica-Cordiglia brothers' work [here](http://www.forteantimes.com/features/articles/1302/lost_in_space.html); it is VERY CREEPIFYING, but also very interesting.


End file.
